


Echoes

by likehandlingroses



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, and rumbelle obviously, but expect gideon/roderick and neal/emma, family fic, i'll add ships and characters as appropriate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-03-09 02:45:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13472046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likehandlingroses/pseuds/likehandlingroses
Summary: Rumple's two sons, born in two different worlds and living two entirely different lives, share one thing: their father's love. Through his eyes, they reflect each other, in moments both great and small.





	1. Nerves

“Where’s Bae?” Rumple asked Milah upon entering the house, a basket of wares on his arm. Bae normally came rushing to greet him when he returned home, but today there was no sign of him. 

Milah pointed at his bed and continued stirring the pot over the stove. Rumple could see a Bae-shaped lump hidden under the covers.

“He’s been there for the better part of an hour, now,” Milah said, to Rumple’s alarm.

“What’s happened?”

Milah shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s decided he doesn’t want to talk today.”

In the last year, Bae had gone from a toddler who wouldn’t stop chattering to a child who was prone to fits of quiet melancholy. Rumple hated to think why such a change had occurred, for the most likely reason seemed to be that Bae was growing into an awareness of how miserable their lives were. Poor and estranged from most of their neighbors, a perpetual chill around the edge of Rumple and Milah’s marriage…what else could they have expected but to raise a child with a certain gloom over his head?

And yet, there was another part of Rumple—a better or worse part, he couldn’t tell—that insisted it wasn’t his fault, after all. The world was cruel. It had always been cruel, and perhaps it would remain that way forever. But he wasn’t. His love for his son wasn’t. It was beautiful and perfect and Bae needed it. Needed him. Things weren’t all bad; existing had its charms and joys. How happy had Bae been when he’d learned to walk all on his own, or when he’d first gotten to pet a sheepdog? Even just last week, Rumple had watched his son marvel over how the bird’s nest in their outside rafters now contained four baby birds. He’d named all of them at once, delighting in the new burst of life. 

Bae deserved to exist, and he deserved a father who had lived to see him do it. What did either of them have to do with a world that believed otherwise?

“I’ll go talk to him,” Rumple said, setting his basket down next to his wheel and making his way over to Bae, who curled himself even tighter into a ball upon hearing his father approach. Rumple perched on the edge of the bed and pretended not to notice Bae slowly peeking his head out from under the blankets.

“Mum says you’re not feeling well today,” Rumple said, averting his gaze until he’d finished talking. Only then did he turn back to Bae, whose big eyes were staring right at him, though the rest of his face remained hidden. Slowly, Bae shook his head before squeezing his eyes shut and ducking his head back down towards his chest.

“Do you feel bad like you’ll be sick?”

Another head shake. Rumple nodded. 

“Is it a sad sort of feeling?” he asked.

Bae looked unsure at how to answer, and—still burrowed in blankets—simply scooted over a few inches towards Rumple. Rumple took the cue and carefully placed a hand on Bae’s head, smoothing over the mess the blankets had made of his hair. After a moment, Rumple could hear Bae’s muffled voice murmur something into his quilt.

“What was that?” he asked, practically whispering himself. Bae waited for him to lean in before picking his head up and saying:

“The babies are gone.”

It took Rumple only a second to understand what Bae meant.

“You mean the baby birds?”

Bae nodded.

“Well, sometimes they’re hard to see up there,” Rumple said. “And anyway, they might have learned to fly and were out for the day.”

But instead of looking comforted, Bae grew pale and shook his head.

“I found one, and it wouldn’t wake up,” he whispered before bursting into tears. Rumple didn’t need to ask anything else. Something—perhaps the wind, perhaps a hawk—had torn the nest apart, and Bae had happened upon the aftermath. The life that had so delighted him was gone, and Rumple couldn’t make it better.

“I’m sorry, Bae.”

The words were barely past his lips before Bae was in his arms. Rumple tapped the back of one of the hands that clung to the front of his shirt, and both of them came free and grabbed at Rumple’s hand instead. Bae’s hands were too small to get a good grip on more than three of Rumple’s fingers, but he held those fingers as tight as he could, still shaking with sobs.

Rumple pressed his lips to the top of Bae’s head. It wasn’t fair, that the world hadn’t changed for his son. Lovely, tiny, precious things still died as though it were nothing. As though Bae were nothing—his tears and his small hands and his perfect little head didn’t matter to the world. It would go on being brutal and dirty and dangerous, just the same as it had before he came into it.

And all Rumple could do was hold Bae tighter and hope he knew that—in his father’s arms—he would always, always matter. More than anything. The rest of the world could disappear, for all he cared.

* * *

 

“Papa! Something bad happened!”

It was Gideon’s new favorite turn of phrase. “Something bad happened,” could mean that a glass of water had fallen over or that Gideon had broken a tooth after tripping on the stairs. It could be a child hogging the swing at the park or losing his mother in the grocery store. 

Belle had been trying to diversify Gideon’s articulations of his feelings: did he feel sad, worried, angry, or tired? When prompted, Gideon had gotten quite good at giving an answer. However, for the moment, his favorite first response was still, “something bad happened,” and Rumple and Belle were left guessing what that something was until they faced it head on.

Tonight’s iteration sounded quite alarmed, so Rumple made his way to Gideon’s bedroom quickly. Gideon was standing beside his bed, and Rumple knew what had happened before he turned on the lights. 

He’d been sick, all over his sheets. Rumple felt a chill run up his spine, for this was the second time it had happened that month. Wordlessly, he knelt down and pressed a panicked hand to Gideon’s forehead. It was cool. 

“Another bad dream?” he whispered, and Gideon nodded. 

“Alright...here, you take your pyjamas off and put them on the bed here, okay? I’ll wash them. And then we’ll clean you up, alright?” 

Gideon did what he asked, and Rumple had everything in the wash within five minutes of entering Gideon’s room. Cleaning him up was also simple. He only needed a few swipes with a washcloth and to brush his teeth again. 

The next step would be harder. Rumple procured another pair of pyjamas for Gideon, and helped him put them on (for the boy’s hands were shaking). 

“You’re alright,” he whispered, and that was enough to send Gideon in a fit of tears. He pressed himself into his father’s arms, his arms wrapped tight about his father’s neck. 

“I don’t like it,” Gideon sobbed. “I don’t like it, Papa.”

He repeated the words over and over again, as though if he said them enough it would wring the emotions out of him. Rumple squeezed him as tight as he could, for much the same reason.

“I know, I know,” he whispered. “But it’ll be alright. You’ve just had a fright, is all. Here…”

He pulled away so he could look Gideon in the eye and wipe away his tears. There was no way of knowing whether the dreams were related to Gideon’s former life or not. He didn’t talk about what they contained, and Belle thought he might simply be an over-anxious child. 

“It could be both,” Rumple once said, and Belle had gone silent in tacit acknowledgment of his point. 

Whatever it was, Rumple would have done anything to make it stop. Gideon had everything he could want, and yet something inside of him was so riddled with fear that it made him physically ill. Rumple knew what it was to feel that way, and he cursed himself with having burdened his son with the same affliction. 

“I don’t like it,” Gideon whispered one last time before swallowing back a sob. 

“I know,” Rumple replied. “Do you want some juice while I make your bed up?”

“Yes, please,” Gideon said, and Rumple couldn’t help but smile at the way Gideon’s eyes lit up. He was built to be cheerful, his Gideon. He was meant for happiness; Rumple was sure of it. Why else had he come back to them the way he had? 

The world wasn’t kind, but it had its own order. That world had given his child a second chance, and that had to mean something. Whatever Rumple had to do to honor that choice, he would. Every smile, every laugh, every new thing Gideon delighted in, vindicated the world in Rumple’s eyes, and he would help it along. Even if all he could do was give Gideon a kiss on the hand and a juice box, he would work with the universe that had given his child the life he deserved. 


	2. Bonding

“And where are Papa’s ears?”

Bae took his hands off of his own ears and reached up for Rumple’s, who lowered his head to make it easier--and to keep Bae from tugging at them. 

“That!” Bae proclaimed, still delighted by himself even though he’d answered the question a dozen times that day. He’d been sitting on Rumple’s knee for the better part of an hour, chattering away in baby talk and eagerly playing whatever game came to Rumple’s mind. At just over a year old, he was becoming alive in a way he had never been before, and Rumple didn’t want to miss any of it. 

Part of him was being selfish; he could admit that. Bae was one of the only things in life that made him happy, and he wanted as much time with him as he could. Even still, he knew the time he spent with Bae was even more important to his son. Rumple could well remember the loneliness that had plagued his early childhood, the sense of insecurity he’d felt due to his father’s near constant absence. He would do anything to keep Bae from suffering the same fate. 

Before he could pick another body part, the door opened, and Milah entered, her arms laden with things she’d picked up from the marketplace. Rumple began to stand, but she shook her head. 

“I’ve already gotten it across town,” she said, dropping everything on their shoddy but sturdy kitchen table. She shuffled it around so it was in some sort of order before turning back to Rumple.

“He hasn’t been distracting you, has he?” Milah asked, sounding as though she knew the answer.

“No,” Rumple said, smiling down at Bae. “He’s been helping me. I’ve got everything finished that I needed to today, and now we’re just having a lesson.”

“A lesson?” Milah stepped forward, her arms crossed in front of her. 

“Yes! He’s a clever boy. Bae, let’s show Mama, huh?” Rumple looked up at Milah. “You’ll have to get down so he can reach your face.”

Milah looked dubious but bent down anyway, to Rumple’s relief. If there was one thing he and Milah had in common, it was their love of Bae. If she was as delighted by this as he was, it could make all the difference in what sort of evening they’d end up having. 

“Alright, son...where’s Bae’s nose?”

Sure enough, Bae’s hands reached up to cup his nose. He grinned, pleased with himself for having solved the problem so quickly with both his parents in the audience.  

“And where’s Mama’s nose?” 

As her face was a new one to consider, Bae took an extra second before gleefully reaching for Milah’s nose. Milah laughed, taking Bae’s hand in her own and giving his palm a kiss. 

“He can do almost the whole face, now,” Rumple said. “Though he gets the eyes and ears mixed up sometimes.” 

“It’s very sweet,” Milah agreed. “But you know, he’ll learn just fine without you taking half the day teaching him.”

Rumple couldn’t tell, sometimes, whether Milah meant to hurt him or not, or if it now happened out of habit more than anything else. Over the past year, he’d kept hoping that matters would improve between them, that they could find a way to be happy with this new life. But he was getting tired of waiting, and so was she. 

“It’s not just about teaching him,” Rumple said, trying to keep his voice level. “He needs someone to talk with him and keep him company. It can get lonely when you’re the only little one about.”

“Imagine what it feels like being the only big person about,” Milah said sardonically, though Rumple wasn’t sure what he’d done to elicit such a response. Then he saw Milah stand up and walk towards the water bucket, and he realized he hadn’t--strictly speaking--finished with everything.  

“I was only waiting for you to get back to get the water. I didn’t want to leave Bae,” he said. It was the truth, though he’d forgotten about the decision until now. 

“Well, I need it for dinner. You could have gone while he was sleeping. Or has he been up since dawn?” Milah asked, and Rumple didn’t know what to say in response. He only let Bae down from his lap and reached for his staff. 

“It’s five minutes either way,” he said, holding out his hand for the bucket. “I’ll go now, just get everything ready. You won’t notice the difference.”

Milah looked him up and down doubtfully. 

“The day you get back in ten minutes is the day we all grow tails.”

In another minute--and before Rumple could say another word--she was out the door. Rumple stood there uselessly for a moment before he felt a tugging at his pants leg.

Bae had stood himself up and was clinging to him for support. 

“Papa!” he said with pride when he noticed Rumple looking at him. He was old enough to know what the word meant to Rumple, and he used it liberally--often to get what he wanted. 

Only this time, he seemed content with Rumple’s grin in response.

* * *

 

Rumple chanced a glance up at the clock on the mantle. Ten after four: Belle and Gideon would be home soon. In recent months, Belle had started taking Gideon to  _ Mommy and Me _ classes so he could interact with other children his age. Gideon loved going, which Rumple wished made him happier. As it was, the situation mostly made him feel unnecessary. 

Gideon had always been closer to Belle, and now they were both away for entire afternoons, having experiences that would forever bond them together. Rumple didn’t begrudge Belle the attention Gideon gave her. She deserved it, of course she did. More than he ever would. And he loved seeing them so happy with each other. He’d never take one moment of it away from them. 

And yet, he was afraid that part of Gideon’s distance towards him was his own fault. He’d spent so much of Gideon’s early years working on making himself a better man, that perhaps he’d neglected to be the father Gideon needed him to be. It had been so easy with Baelfire, when he’d been nothing but a decent man with a modest life. Now, he had hundreds of years and dozens of ghosts weighing on him. Children sensed that sort of thing, surely.

He heard Belle’s voice from the foyer and sat up straighter on the couch, preparing himself to act appropriately excited by Gideon’s fingerpainting exploits. 

“He’s probably in here...let’s look...”

“Where’s Papa?” Rumple heard Gideon asking before he came into view. Upon noticing his father, Gideon only gave Belle a wide grin.

“Did you find him?” she asked.

“Yeah, I found him!” Gideon proclaimed. 

“I told you he wasn’t far…” Belle said, sitting down next to Rumple, who placed an automatic hand on her knee. “What did you want to give Papa?”

It wasn’t until then that Rumple noticed the yellow dandelions half-crushed in Gideon’s hand. But Gideon played coy, waiting for Belle to coax him further. He looked down at his socks and shrugged. 

“Did you want to give him your flowers?” asked Belle, playing along. Gideon nodded, eyes still pointed shyly at the floor. Then, without warning, he thrust the flowers out in front of him, lifted his head, and gave Rumple a winning smile. 

“They’re yellow!” he said as he advanced towards Rumple, now eager to dispose of his gift. Rumple took them from Gideon, who remained at his knee.

“They are indeed,” said Rumple, giving the dandelions a thorough looking over before brushing a hand through Gideon’s hair. “Thank you very much, son.” 

Gideon didn’t need any other invitation to clamber up on the couch next to Rumple and settle down beside him. 

“He found them outside of school,” Belle explained, her eyes intent on Gideon. “I asked him who they were for and he said, ‘Papa.’ He misses you when we’re there. Don’t you, Gideon?”

Gideon buried his head into his father’s side in response, suddenly shy again. Rumple wasn’t sure what to say, so he considered the flowers in his hand again. All of Belle’s childhood development books had told them that Gideon was in a “monkey see, monkey do” stage of life. He must have seen Rumple bring Belle home flowers dozens of times now and decided it was high time for him to do the same for his papa. Or perhaps he’d just been charmed by the dandelions and wanted to share his excitement with Rumple. Either way, he’d thought of him, and the weeds were proof.

“It was sweet of him,” Rumple murmured, twirling the stems between his fingers.

“I was thinking…” said Belle after a beat. “I’d love to get more involved with the library. It’s up and running now, but it could be so much more if someone just took a little extra time.”

Rumple could hear the spark in her voice, and knew she’d done more than thinking--she’d been planning and hoping and dreaming for some time. 

“And that someone is you?”

“I’d like it to be,” Belle said. “Would you take him to school if I did?”

He wanted to say yes straight away, before Belle realized what she’d said. Instead, he only asked:

“You think they’ll let me in?”

“Fathers take their children all the time. The name is outdated; they’re changing it anyway,” Belle said.

Rumple shook his head. “I mean...will they want  _ me _ there?”

Instead of looking concerned, Belle only laughed. “Oh, that! You’ll be fine. Unless you don’t want to?”

“No!” Rumple exclaimed. “No, I’d...I’d like that very much. As long as Gideon doesn’t mind?”

“Rumple...” Belle said, placing a hand on Rumple’s arm. “He’s asked me three times today when Papa was coming to see his school. David was there today with Neal, and all he wants now is for you to go too.”

Rumple nodded, looking down at Gideon, who was already half-asleep, still nestled contentedly under his arm. 

“Well, I’d hate to disappoint him.” 


	3. Out

After years of living as a social pariah, Rumple had grown used to being ignored by almost everyone but Bae. In the twelve years since he’d returned home from the war, life had settled, and the sneers and threats had died down and been replaced with silence. Though it was no less isolating, the silence was a good deal less frightening, so Rumple took it as an improvement. It wasn’t exactly pleasant to walk through life invisible, but one got used to the quiet after a time.

However, the woman who was currently halfway through his doorway and shouting in his face didn’t seem to care what sort of life he’d gotten used to, and Rumple could hardly hear what she was saying over his confusion at being so suddenly--and violently--addressed.

Cressida. That was her name. She had a son, Adrian, who was a good friend of Bae’s. Rumple clung to that as he tried to find a way into the words being screamed at him.

“--and after I spent years telling myself and everyone else that the boy was different from his father! I should have known...maybe if he weren’t stuck in this house that could be true, but who else has he got teaching him but you? And now it’s spreading, and gods forgive me for not realizing that’s what would happen from the start.”

He’d come into the speech too late, and so all Rumple could do was ask:

“What’s spreading?”

Cressida looked as though she might hit him.

“Have you been listening to anything I’ve said? There’s about half a dozen children acting like animals, and it’s your boy’s doing! I know that...who else of ‘em has a father without a spine and no mother worth speaking of?”

“I’ll talk to Bae, then,” he said, hoping that would be the end of it. Even if he’d had the faintest idea what she was talking about, it wouldn’t help anything to argue. He just wanted her to go, to leave him and his son in peace again.

“Much good it’ll do…” she muttered, though thankfully Rumple could sense a retreat. “And you tell him to stay away from my son! If you won’t whip him for acting a fool, my husband will. I can promise you that.”

No sooner had Cressida turned to leave than Bae came racing up to house. His eyes went wide when he saw Cressida, though she said nothing to him. Indeed, she cast her gaze downward and pretended she hadn’t seen him at all. Rumple swallowed back a sick feeling brewing in his stomach and waved Bae inside.

For a moment, the only sound was Bae trying to catch his breath. Rumple waited for his son to tell him what he’d torn across town to say, but as his breathing settled, Rumple realized Bae wouldn’t say a word until he was asked. He hadn’t run home to see his father; he’d been running away from something else.

He was getting to be that age, and Rumple wasn’t ready for it. Nevertheless, he steeled himself and tried to ask the question as though the answer didn’t matter.

“I, ah, wasn’t able to catch the details of what Adrian’s mother was saying through all the shouting. Would you be able to explain?”

Bae didn’t look up at him, but he spoke without much hesitation.

“It was just a game we were playing. All of us: Adrian and Morraine and everyone. Boys and girls.”

It wasn’t until that moment, as he watched his son’s face turn red, that Rumple had any idea of what had happened. He wished he could go back to that time.

“And the game was…?”

This time, Bae looked as though he might not answer. His eyes still intent on the floor, he walked past Rumple and plopped down on the stool next to his spinning wheel.

“It was silly. I don’t know why they got upset. It’s just kissing.”

Rumple tightened his grip on his staff.

“You’re a bit young for that,” was all he managed to get out, and he knew from the way Bae rolled his eyes that it wasn’t enough.

“It wasn’t like that, Papa. It was just a part of the game. You had to guess something about the person, and if you got it wrong you had to kiss them. That’s all.”

If he could have managed it, Rumple would have laughed at Bae’s assumption that he and his friends had invented such a game. As it was, he only felt a certain coldness going up his spine.

“I know what sort of game it is. We had them when I was a boy, and they’ll have them when you have children.”

“So they can’t be _very_ bad, then,” Bae said. Rumple only shook his head.

“Perhaps not. But they think it is,” said Rumple, gesturing vaguely at the door. “And there’s nothing you or I can do about that.”

“But--”

“--it will cause trouble like you can’t imagine, son. It’s not worth it, for a silly game.”

“I’m not afraid of them,” Bae said boldly, and Rumple suddenly felt smaller than he had in years. What answer did he--the town coward--have to that?

“It’s not for them,” he finally said. “It’s for me. If something were to happen to you…”

Rumple felt himself unable to finish the thought, and shook his head to clear it from his mind. “Sometimes it’s easier just to get on with people, you see?”

Bae considered this for a long while. Finally, he nodded.

“I won’t do it again,” he said, before looking right at Rumple. “But only because you’re asking. Not for them.”

Rumple smiled. That was all he needed to hear.  
  


* * *

 

Rumple didn’t see how it was fair that some of the most important conversations a parent could have with a child had to happen just when they became difficult to talk to. Gideon was twelve now, and though his affectionate disposition made being a walled-off preteen difficult, he was certainly doing his best impression of one.

“So why did you bring me here really?” Gideon asked the second he and Rumple sat down on the park bench, sundaes in hand. After some prompting from Belle that Gideon might need a talk with his father, Rumple had reluctantly taken him out for ice cream. It was an old technique and a transparent one, but he hadn’t been able to think of anything else.

“I’ve told you: you’re doing well in school, and I thought it’d be nice to celebrate.”

Gideon looked doubtful, but chose to stick his spoon back into his sundae rather than argue the point.

“You’ll have to say eventually,” he grumbled under his breath. Rumple ignored the comment.

“So, how are your friends?”

Gideon frowned. “All of them?”

“Well, how are the ones I know?” Rumple said. “Adam and Madison and the...rest of them?”

“Fine, I guess,” said Gideon with a shrug.

“Good. That’s...good.”

Silence. Rumple tried desperately to think of something else, some other way in. Belle should have just told him what he needed to ask Gideon about. With Gideon already on his trail and Rumple without a lead, the entire conversation was dead before it had even begun.

Then Gideon, while overmixing the hot fudge into his sundae, spoke entirely of his own accord.

“I mean...I guess Madison’s alright. Just not with me right now.”

“Oh?” Rumple said, terrified of saying anything else.

“We’ve got that dance next week--it’s stupid, it’s just during school--and she wanted to go with me. And I said I didn’t want to. I mean, I want to go with her! She’s my friend, and it’d be fun. Just not like...it’s just a dance. It’s not a big deal.”

He said all of it at once, staring at his ice cream the entire time. Now Rumple had an entirely different problem. His son had given him the gift of his confidence, and it was now up to him to say something helpful.

“Well, that’s what happens, when you get older. Everyone starts changing a bit.”

“Oh, _that’s_ what this is!” Gideon said with a smile. “I already had a class on everything. You signed the papers.”

Despite his dismissal, Gideon’s smile put Rumple at ease. He might be changing, but he would always be Gideon. And Gideon was as good-natured and understanding as anyone Rumple had ever met. There was no reason to be afraid of his own son.

“Everything?” Rumple retorted, grinning back at him. “In two hours? I doubt it. Or do you think you understand everything after that?”

“...no,” Gideon admitted. “They acted like everyone wants to do the same thing and live the same life, and so we all have to follow the same rules.”

“That is a problem,” Rumple said, and suddenly he didn’t need to wonder where the conversation was going. Belle was right. He had something to tell him. And now all Rumple had to do was wait. Sure enough, after taking a breath, Gideon continued.

“Like with the dance...I don’t want to go with Madison because if I went with someone, it’d be a boy. And they didn’t talk about that at all. Just about boys and girls and what that’s like.”

Rumple nodded. It wasn’t a surprise, really. Gideon had known about families with two mamas or two papas since he was small, and he had read story after story of princes or princesses saving each other. It had never been something to discover about himself or the world; it just was, and as early as six or so Gideon had told his parents in no uncertain terms that he wanted to marry a boy.

However, the weight of Gideon’s words felt different this time, more self-conscious. The rest of the world was creeping its way into his son’s understanding of himself, and Rumple didn’t like it one bit.

“I’d tell her I’m gay, but Madison tells everyone everything, and I don’t want everyone to know right now,” he explained, and Rumple wished his son’s pragmatism could be replaced by the romantic fancies of his childhood one last time. Then, too quickly, he got his wish.

“I was thinking--Mum told me to ask you--if I should ask Adam to go?” Gideon looked up at Rumple for the first time since they’d sat down, and Rumple panicked at the excitement in his eyes.

“To the dance?” he stammered.

“Yeah,” Gideon said, his eyebrows drawing closer together.

“I’m not sure that’s--”

“--we wouldn’t go around telling everyone if we did,” Gideon explained. “And he might not want to, but we’re friends, so it wouldn’t hurt to just ask.”

Rumple knew what he ought to do, what Belle wanted him to tell Gideon, but instead he only said:

“Well, it might.”

Gideon turned back to his ice cream, his hands squeezing tight against the plastic container.

“Okay.” He took a stab at his sundae with his spoon, then stood up and threw it in a nearby trash can.

“Gideon…”

But by the time Rumple caught up to him, Gideon’s headphones were in his ears. He kept his eyes shut the whole way home, and Rumple didn’t dare say anything else. He’d done quite enough already.

Belle--who was settled in on the couch with a book--sat up straight as Gideon raced up the stairs to his room.

“What did you say to him?” she asked the second they heard his door slam. The accusatory note in her voice made the room stifling, and Rumple lashed out even as he felt the first pangs of guilt coming on.

“What did _I_ say? I’m not the one who told him it would be a good idea to throw his entire emotional well being away on a school dance.”

His defensiveness crumbled when he saw Belle’s entire face fall.

“You told him not to ask Adam? How could you do that?”

“I don’t want him to be hurt,” he said with resolve. Perhaps he hadn’t been entirely right, hadn’t said things the right way...but he hadn’t been wrong, either.

But Belle only shook her head, though her expression softened somewhat.

“That’s not something you can control, Rumple. It’s part of life. And your job-- _our_ job--is to teach him how to be brave enough to face that, and to give him a place to go when things go wrong. Not to tell him to run away from what he wants because things might not work out the way he wants them to.”

It had been some time since Rumple had felt entirely inadequate as a father, but it only took a moment for the feeling to settle back into its usual place at the pit of his stomach.

“It’s also my job to protect him,” he persisted, more out of instinct than conviction.

“Not from love. Not from who he is,” Belle said. “The rest of the world is going to tell him he can’t and he shouldn’t and to wait. Not us. Not in this house.”

Though her voice was gentle, her eyes were nothing but steel, and Rumple knew there was nothing more for him to say. Not to her, anyway.

“I’ll be right back.”

He clambered up to Gideon’s room and knocked on the door before the nerves had a chance to stop him. Belle was right: it was his job to teach his son to be brave, and if that meant pretending he was brave as well, he’d find a way to pretend.

Gideon opened the door, and Rumple silently thanked whoever was listening that it didn’t appear he’d been crying.

“May I come in?”

Gideon sighed. “Fine.”

He sat down on the edge of his bed and looked up at Rumple expectantly. They both knew what had to be said. All Rumple needed to do was say it, no matter what happened afterwards. 

“I wanted to apologize for what I said before. About you asking Adam to the dance.”

As soon as Rumple started talking, Gideon became quite interested in a loose thread on his pillowcase.

“Because Mum yelled at you?”

“Because I was wrong,” Rumple said, and this brought Gideon’s eyes up to meet his own. Somehow, that made things easier, and Rumple pressed on. “It was bad advice, and it made you feel badly about the things you wanted. I was trying to protect you…” Rumple stopped and shook his head. “That’s not it... I was afraid when you told me. But that’s my own burden to bear, not yours. You have to live, and I have to help you do that.”

When Bae had cried, he’d nearly always tucked himself away--usually in his father’s arms--and Rumple remembered Bae’s tears as something tactile and heavy. Gideon’s eyes always gave off a glistening warning sign well before a single tear fell, which he rarely cared to hide. With Gideon, tears were something delicate and expressive, almost beautiful.

Still, it always hurt Rumple beyond measure to see his son’s eyes start to fill with tears.

“What if he gets angry?” Gideon whispered, and Rumple knew now what he ought to have said on the park bench.

“He might. I wish I could promise you he won’t, but he might,” he replied, and to his relief, Gideon didn’t seem either shocked or bothered by this response. Instead, he set one of his hands down next to where he was sitting and shifted to the side to make room for Rumple. Rumple took the seat without hesitation.

“But if he does get angry, he’s not the sort of person you’d want to be friends with, is he?” Rumple continued. “He’s the same person, whether you ask or not. Only in one case, you’re hiding, and in the other...it’s you as you are. So there’s only one option that makes sense, it seems to me.”

Gideon nodded, but there was still something troubled behind his eyes.

“But then why did you say that I shouldn’t?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Rumple took a moment, petrified of what he might say, of what he could say, if he ever worked up the courage.

“I was afraid, and fear makes people forget the things that matter more than protecting yourself,” he said, slowly. “Being who you are, and having people in your life who love you for it...that’s everything. And I want that for you. You know that?”

Finally, Gideon smiled. “Yes.”

Rumple reached for Gideon’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I love you,” he said. “And I’m proud of you. You’re braver than I’ve ever been. If you didn’t know it before, you know it now.”

And just like that, Gideon was in his arms, grasping him as tightly as he always had.

“I know you were just worried I’d get hurt,” he said, and there was no doubt of his sincerity. All was well between them. However, Gideon’s earnestness only solidified what Rumple had known for some time. If he was to help his son, he needed to tell him everything. He closed his eyes, bracing himself before pulling away from Gideon.

“It’s not just that,” he admitted. “I...know how it is, to look at the outside world and see how they feel about who you are. It’s terrifying. I had two mothers, and I still was scared to death when I realized I felt the same way about some boys as I did about girls.”

As soon as he saw Gideon’s reaction to his words, Rumple regretted not having told him from the start. He’d expected surprise, but that vanished almost as soon as it came, and it was replaced with a look of joy and understanding that Rumple didn’t know how he’d managed to go without for so many centuries.

“You did?”

“I did,” Rumple said, feeling almost giddy. “I still do, I suppose, though I doubt I’ll ever have eyes for anyone but your mother for the rest of my life.”

“So you know everything!”

Rumple went red at the comment, though Gideon didn’t seem to notice.

“Well...I know some things, yes. When I was young, the world was different, so there wasn’t the same chances you’ll have. And as I said, I wasn’t brave enough to always take the chances I could have.”

If Rumple had known he’d have to explain his cowardice to a son who desperately needed his bravery one day, perhaps he’d have lived differently. But Gideon didn’t seem bothered by his admission.

“So did you ever date a boy or anything?” he asked, and Rumple couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. It didn’t matter if he said yes or no, he realized. What mattered was that Gideon could ask the question.

“A time or two, yes. In a manner of speaking…” he replied, and now it was Gideon’s turn to blush. However, even in his embarrassment, Rumple could feel the understanding between them growing.

“Thanks for telling me, Papa,” Gideon said, after a pause.

“Thank you, for letting me. Especially after I made such a mess of things today.”

Gideon shook his head. “If I’d known why you were scared, I wouldn’t have gotten upset. But now…” Gideon hesitated and looked at his hands. “I get scared sometimes, too. And I felt like I couldn’t tell you that before, because you would just get worried and not understand. And now...well, you’ll probably still worry, but I know you’ll understand, too.”

It was all Rumple needed to hear. He’d tell the entire world if it made his son feel like he could come to him whenever he needed. He opened his mouth to tell him as much, but Gideon interrupted.

“I’m...really excited,” he said with a smile that Rumple prayed he’d be able to remember for the rest of his life.

“About what?”

He could see the possibilities flit through his son’s eyes before Gideon answered.

“Lots of things.”


	4. Night and Day

If he looked far enough into the distance, Rumple could see the faintest hint of light on the horizon. The sun was rising, and they’d soon be home. Though the thought filled him with an excitement he’d thought he might never feel again, Rumple kept his gaze away from the skies. Hook’s boat moved quickly through the stars, and it made him dizzy (and more than a little bit anxious). The cabins below were stuffy and reminded him of how close he’d come to death, so the only thing to do was sit on deck and lie to himself about where he was.

Bae interrupted his solitary game of pretend, sitting down next to him with a plate of food in hand. He held it out to Rumple.

“You should eat something.”

Rumple took the plate, despite the fact that he wasn’t sure he’d feel anything but nauseous until the ship had landed. “Thank you. Is Henry--?" 

“He’s good,” Bae— _Neal_ —said. “Kid bounces.”

Rumple nodded, and they fell into a silence that Rumple feared would eventually send Neal away, though he wasn’t sure if breaking it was wise, either. His son knew he wasn’t going to hurt Henry, that he wasn’t a monster. He’d even let Rumple hold him tight, and the ache that Rumple had carried in his heart for centuries was ebbing away. But what happened when the ship landed, when life started again? That, Rumple didn’t know.

“You okay?” Neal asked.

“Of course,” Rumple replied, but Neal looked unconvinced.

“Then why’s your face like that? Pan can’t get out of there, can he?” Neal gestured to Pandora’s box, which lay at Rumple’s feet.

“No, no. It’s nothing like that. I’m just tired.”

Neal's eyes narrowed. “You don’t sleep.”

“But you always said I should,” Rumple quipped.

“But you don’t,” Neal said, a hint of a smile crossing his face. “So what is it?”

He didn’t want to have this conversation now, before they’d even arrived back in Storybrooke. If he could have had one night to pretend, one moment to keep sacred...but his son wanted an answer, and if Rumple didn’t give him one he’d supply his own. Nothing good could come of that.

“Do you remember what you said, before? About how things couldn’t go back to the way they were?” Rumple avoided Bae’s gaze. “I understand that. Not just now. I always have.”

“I don’t think I said that exactly,” Neal said, his voice strained.

  
“The point is, I understand. And it wasn’t fair of me to ask it of you. You’ve your own life, now, and I accept that. It’s my own fault I’m not a part of it. I thought, if I tried hard enough, it could make things better, but if I’ve made things worse by—”

“—you did.” The words tore at Rumple’s heart as only Bae’s could, but when Rumple chanced a glance at him, he didn’t look unhappy, only pensive. “For a while, things were worse. Having to look at you and deal with all the crap I’ve spent years trying to forget? It was a nightmare. And it pissed me off, because I didn’t understand why you kept acting like it was something you could fix.”

“I’m s—”

Neal shook his head, and Rumple bit his tongue. It wasn’t his turn, yet.

“Thing is, I had to feel like that for a while. Maybe part of me still does, I don’t know, things have been...weird.”

He laughed, then, just a little. Just enough for Rumple to suddenly want to listen.

“What I do know is that when I saw you coming out of that box? All of that didn’t matter. I just saw my father. And I was happy about it, too. I didn’t think I’d ever get that again, and I wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t shown up and tried. You have enough to apologize for. Don’t apologize for trying. I don’t want you to.”

Rumple had carried the fear of being rejected by his son in his heart for so long that he’d begun to think of it as a permanent fixture. But in that moment, he didn’t know where that fear had lived for so many centuries. There wasn’t room for it any longer, for all he felt was love, and he spoke it aloud without a thought for the consequences.

“I love you, Bae.”

For the briefest moment, Rumple saw something like fear in Bae’s eyes, but he blinked it away into something softer and gripped his father’s hand tight in his own.

“I love you, too.”

Rumple chanced a glance up at the stars, and to his surprise, they weren’t moving so quickly, now. Perhaps they’d never really moved at all.

 

* * *

 

Rumple’s heart dropped into his stomach when he realized Gideon wasn’t in his room. One night, and he’d already lost him again. The Black Fairy had tricked him, had stolen him away again while Rumple’s back was turned. He was a fool for letting his guard down for even a moment…

Just as he was about to wake Belle in a panic, his eye caught Gideon’s bedroom window, and—without knowing why—he approached it and looked out to find Gideon safe and sound, standing the backyard, content as could be. Propelled by relief, Rumple went out to meet him.

Gideon gave a start when he heard Rumple’s feet on the grass, but he smiled upon realizing who had joined him.

“You’re up early,” Rumple said, gesturing to the rising sun that could just been seen through the trees.

“I could hear the birds from my window,” Gideon replied, and Rumple followed his gaze to the branches of the trees, where a host of bluebirds were chirping away.

“They’re out every morning about this time of year,” Rumple said, delighting in how pleased this fact made Gideon.

“It’s so beautiful here,” he said, with a sincerity that pulled at Rumple’s heart.

“Yes, it is,” Rumple said with a fervor he didn’t quite mean. He remembered what his mother had told him the night before: she’d hurt Gideon to prepare him for a world that was dangerous and ugly and broken. If it would help his son heal from her cruelty, Rumple would gladly pretend the world was lovely for the rest of his days.  

One of the birds flew down from the branches, soaring just overhead. Gideon reached out his hand, and the bird perched itself right on his palm.

“It worked,” he murmured, his other hand reaching up to stroke the bird’s head. Rumple felt sure the creature would protest this, but it seemed perfectly happy to play pet.

“Hello,” Gideon whispered, and the bird gave a spirited chirp in response. Rumple felt suddenly unsure if he’d ever woken up at all.

“How did you--?”

“I taught myself.” Gideon said, looking pleased as anything. “But I’ve only done it with mice before—they’re good company, in a pinch.”

“You can control them?” Rumple asked, without thinking. Gideon’s eyes widened in horror.

“No, not that! I mean...I suppose I could,” he admitted. “But this is different. You just have to make them think you’re one of them, and they’ll come to you.”

Rumple had never heard of such a thing, though he supposed it wasn’t the most improbable thing he’d been asked to believe, even in the last day.

“It sounds like rather advanced magic.”

Gideon shook his head. “It’s simple, really. You just feel out what kind of energy they have around them, and then tell your magic to match it.”

The bird flew out of Gideon’s hand, and he watched it go back to its branch before continuing.

“It’s hard to explain. But it’s nice, once you can do it. Makes the world wider.”

“Yes,” Rumple murmured, marvelling at his son. He was effortlessly gentle, his Gideon. When he’d first come to town, Rumple had seen only anger and pain. He’d seen himself. Then he’d caught a glimpse of Gideon’s bravery and nobility, and there’d been no doubt that he was Belle’s son. Now, as he watched Gideon, Rumple could see someone who was entirely his own, who had created his own joys, dreamed his own dreams, made his own mistakes, and decided all on his own who he was going to be.

He was absolutely beautiful.

Gideon frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Rumple had hardly realized he was on the verge of tears until he saw Gideon’s look of concern.

“Nothing,” he said, and it was the truest thing in the world. “I just...I love you.”

He’d said the words too soon. Gideon wasn’t ready, perhaps never would be. They’d only just met, and he was a man, now. Rumple hadn’t meant to say it, though he felt the truth of the words more powerfully than ever before. He’d earned his son’s trust, but his love? That was something else entirely, and he couldn’t expect it so soon.

But Gideon, far from looking perplexed or overburdened by his father’s words, smiled and--without a hint of self-doubt--replied:

“I love you, too.”

And just like that, his eyes were back on the skies, where the bluebird was coming around towards them again, already eager to fly back to his newly acquired friend.

“Oh, here he comes again!” Gideon exclaimed, and he held out his hands to his father. “Here, let me…”

Rumple let Gideon take his hands without quite knowing why he wanted them, but he soon felt a warm, twitchy feeling running up his arms. It almost stung, but only for a moment. Gideon grinned.

“Now he’ll know you, too,” he said.

Sure enough, the bird hopped from Gideon’s hand to Rumple’s like it was nothing, and Rumple found himself laughing at how it bounced about in his hand.

“He likes you better, it seems,” Gideon said.

“Well, I’m a fair bit older than most of these trees, so I’m sure he thinks he’s quite at home.” Rumple let his finger run across the bird’s back. “But you’re right. It is beautiful.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This will be a sort of anthology fic that I'll update as inspiration hits. I really wanted to play with the contrasts and parallels between Gideon and Baelfire. Sometime I might find an AU where they meet, but for now it was fun to just explore who they are and how they relate to Rumple. If you ever have any ideas for other moments we might want to see, let me know! I'd be happy to give it a try.


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